


The Monster Within

by fairyfeller



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Multi, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-01 10:31:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17865623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairyfeller/pseuds/fairyfeller
Summary: A cursed rose, a monster turned man, and a huge magical plant in the middle of a swamp.When Damien becomes ensnared within the rose's grip, all initially seems hopeless. But there's something strange about Lord Arum, the man he now lives with in the Keep. And as for the lizard who haunts his dreams each night, well... there's something human in his eyes...





	1. Chapter 1

_I’m not lost_ , Sir Damien told himself for the eighth time that day. He was the best knight in the Second Citadel, possibly; knights of his calibre didn’t get _lost_. He was merely… directionally confused. Yes, that was it. Hardly surprising, really; the maps for areas past the Lake of Tranquillity weren’t as reliable as the ones for other parts of the world. And besides, there was perhaps some monstrous magic in this swamp meant to trick any traveller who ventured into it, so it was hardly surprising that someone might end up getting lost at some point or another.

Not that he _was_ lost, not really. He had a vague sense of where he was in relation to the Citadel, and once he found the road out of this accursed swamp, he would be fine. He just had to find the path out.

His tiredness certainly wasn’t helping. Damien had been riding for days on end for the best part of a month now, travelling north-west to a village with an infestation of spider-wolves. He had slain the beasts, but not before being bitten several times. The village weren’t particularly welcome to outsiders, not even to knights of the Crown, and Damien hadn’t much chance to rest before beginning his journey back. Exhaustion had settled deep into his bones. But with a calm mind and Saint Damien’s blessing, he was sure the way ahead would become clear.

Eventually. Once he managed to achieve a calm mind. _Focus, Sir Damien, focus._

He continued riding, doing his best to ignore the pain from his bite-wounds, which weren’t healing as quickly as he’d hoped.

Were spider-wolves poisonous, Damien wondered. None of the villagers had said so, but then, what if they didn’t know? The bodies of the victims had been torn to shreds and wrapped in silk web, who knew what venom could have been injected. A poison could cause disorientation, surely? That would explain why he was lost.

But if he were poisoned, how could he stop it? Would he manage to return to the Citadel before the sickness overtook him? Would he even manage to leave the swamp before nightfall?

The beginnings of anxiety began swelling out into outright panic. What if he died out here? No one would find his body - it would probably be eaten by some foul swamp monster long before a search party came. And what of Rilla, his sweet Amaryllis, how could he so foolish as to die on her like this, not even a noble death from taking down a monster but simply through getting lost-

Damien’s breathing became rapid as his thoughts continued to spiral. _Tranquillity_ , he thought, _Saint Damien, grant me your tranquillity, let it flow through me, allow me to-_

His prayer was broken off midway when a loud bird screech made his horse buck and rear up, sending Damien flying from the saddle. He landed painfully, and was quickly sprayed with mud as his horse bolted.

He got up slowly, shoulder aching, and did his best to wipe his face clean with shaking hands. He told himself he would make it out, but as panic continued to mount he found it harder and harder to believe himself. Still, he picked a direction and started walking. If he could make it out of this swamp, he thought, perhaps some other traveller would find him. Or perhaps there was a nearby village he could find. He had to keep walking. He had to, he must. A knight of the crown couldn’t stop.

Damien walked, and he walked, staying upright through sheer determination. The sun set, and he walked. Twilight descended, and he walked. He found a tranquillity of sorts in the steady movement of his legs, the burning ache in his muscles, and he walked.

Through the gloom he could make out a structure ahead. A castle? A tower? It was hard to make out in the rapidly-descending darkness, but Damien could make out the shape of it stretching upwards. He hesitated, debating whether to head towards it. On the one hand, some monstrous creature likely lived in there, but on the other, it could well be abandoned; he had so far seen very little life in the swamp beyond plants. And given he had seen no other structures during the hours he had spent in the swamp, he doubted he would find any better prospects for spending the night.

And if there were some beast lurking within, it was his duty to slay it.

With some trepidation, Damien slowly approached the structure, his bow drawn. As he drew closer, he could make out more details. It was plant-like in design, looking like an enormous flower, and long vines hung from the air and covered the ground. He was reaching for the door when it swung open of its own accord.

Damien stared into the dark interior, his hand still outstretched. There was definitely some magic in this place. It was almost certainly dangerous. But he was exhausted, and injured, and there was a faint singing on the edge on of his hearing that made his heart ache for home, and he would rather face whatever was lurking inside than spend the night in a cold puddle. He readied his bow, reminded himself that he was a knight of the crown, and stepped inside. The door closed silently behind him.

It was cool, the air damp and smelling of dirt and plant life. It was dark at first, so dark that Damien could barely see in front of himself, but bioluminescent lights quickly appeared above him, revealing a staircase of sorts made of vines. Damien began climbing, higher and higher, trying to follow the singing that seemed to come from everywhere. He walked through doors that opened at his approach, down several long and twisting halls, lights always blooming just ahead of him, lulled into a trance-like state by the soft melodic singing which always seemed to be just ahead of him.

The singing led him into a small room carpeted in spongy moss, with something which looked like a bed in the corner. Damien looked round, finding no source of the singing; there was no one else there other than him.

There was, however, a table covered with bowls of fruit and a large plate of bread, and another table with bandages and a bowl of clear water. Damien resisted the food; he knew stories about magical food trapping anyone foolish enough to eat it. He knew it was foolish to place stock in such things, but the strangeness of the place combined with his tiredness was enough to lodge the thought in his mind.

He carefully washed and rebandaged the bites on his arm and side, and the singing returned for a moment, with a tone of… approval? His eyes roamed around the room, the ceiling, for any clue where it could have come from, but there were none. The singing seemed to have come from the very walls.

He settled himself against the bed, bow in hand, ready to spend the night on guard. But the singing began again in full, sweet and soothing, and without realising Damien was soon in a deep slumber.


	2. Chapter 2

Damien woke slowly, still half-caught in a dream. He had been wandering through dark labyrinthine corridors, following the sounds of a strange beast, getting close but never able to see it. He blinked up at the ceiling, trying to orient himself in the unfamiliar place. He had been wandering a swamp, and had stumbled across this building, and- and had failed in his guard! He scrambled upwards, fumbling for his weapons and almost tripping over his boots in the process. What kind of knight was he, falling asleep so quickly? It was a wonder his throat hadn’t been slit, Saints knew what kinds of fiendish things lived nearby, how could he be so foolish-

The walls sang, and through his panic Damien could still recognise the words.

_Meet me by the river… where the elderberries grow…_

He took a shuddering breath, trying to regain his calm. He was safe here, he must be. Why else would an old Citadel song exist here? Surely that was a sign. Perhaps one of the Saints created this place, or one of the Sages. Yes, that made sense; this could be a safe haven for travellers on their way to seek wisdom. Yes, that must be it. That would also explain how the food could remain unspoiled. And as for his boots being removed while he slept, well…

Damien couldn’t think of an explanation for that yet, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one. The Saints moved in mysterious ways, who was he to question them?

Tranquillity restored somewhat, Damien contemplated how best to proceed. He needed to return to the Citadel, but with his supplies gone along with his horse, the long journey around the Lake of Tranquillity would be more difficult and nearly three times as long. Perhaps there were stores here he could use? A map of the area would also prove helpful, given how confusing the surrounding terrain was. He pondered this as he sat and ate at the small table, as he double-checked his bandages, as he retied his boots, and as he finally left the room to explore.

Partway down the hallway a door opened by itself, and there was a short harmony leading into it. Curious, Damien walked inside, finding himself in a huge greenhouse. Strange plants grew up every wall, climbing up to a ceiling that Damien could barely see. There was a dense foliage of leaves of every shape and size, flowers of every imageable hue and scent. Each direction contained another wonder. Damien wished Rilla were here to see it, he knew she would delight in it even more than he.

And at the far end of the room, taking up most of a wall, grew an enormous rosebush, its blooms dripping ruby red onto the mossy floor.

Damien approached it in awe. Roses in the Citadel were a rare sight, difficult to come by and difficult to grow. Rilla said the soil wasn’t right for them, and most of the rosebushes either died within the first days of winter or became more thorn than flower. But _this_ was magnificent, a glorious miracle of nature within a roomful of miracles, with large, deep red petals and a sweet, delicate fragrance.

Determined to take a bloom back with him – as both a token for Rilla, and as a sign that he hadn’t dreamt up this place – Damien took hold of a stem and broke off a flower.

Two things happened in quick succession.

First: the door behind Damien burst open. He turned in surprise, catching sight of a tall figure in the doorway.

Second: a rose thorn, unseen beneath the petals, drove itself into the base of Damien’s thumb.

\--

Lord Arum threw open the door to the greenhouse, glad to have finally found the intruder, angry that it had taken him so long.

“ _You_ ,” he growled, stalking towards the human. “There you are you little pest.”

The human turned, startled, and it was then Arum saw he was holding a rose stem. He groaned internally. Of course. He should have known the human would be lured to _that_ plant in particular.

“I-I do apologise for the intrusion,” the human stammered, “I was travelling through the swamp, and I-”

“And you what?” Arum snarled. “You thought you would come snooping where you don’t belong? Start taking what isn’t yours?” He hissed, wishing his current form was more intimidating; it was so much harder to threaten when you no longer had claws.

The human stared down at the rose for a moment. “I apologise for taking this,” he said. “I did not know it belonged to anyone, I thought this place abandoned. If I had known someone-” He stopped, seeming to only just notice the blood dripping from his hand. “Ah, if you have a bandage….”

Arum stared at the blood, then at the rose, then at the human’s hand. Surely… no, surely not.

“I was travelling through these swamps and lost my way,” the human continued, stanching the blood with his shirt. “I didn’t realise anyone was living here. Please, are there any spare supplies, or perhaps a horse? I lost mine during the night and have a long distance to travel.”

“Your horse is the least of your troubles,” Arum replied. He snatched at the hand, tightening his grip when the human tried to pull away. There, in the thumb. Arum could feel a hint of magic as the thorn burrowed its way deeper.

Damn the human for creeping about. And damn the Keep for leading him here.

“Well, I suppose you’re happy now,” he spat. “You just couldn’t resist touching things, could you? It wasn’t enough to merely stroll in here uninvited.”

The human pulled his hand away. “I apologise for taking this, truly,” he said, offering the rose to Arum. “If you could give me directions out of this swamp, I can leave you in peace.”

“Much too late for that,” said Arum, holding up his hand and showing the human the matching thorn in the base of his own thumb. “It seems the curse has found another victim, all because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.”

The human stared at Arum’s hand for a moment, then down at his own, which was still trickling blood. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t. Why would your puny human mind be able to comprehend the-” The Keep interrupted him with several sharp notes. Arum bit back a retort, and turned back to the human. “That rosebush is part of a very powerful piece of magic, and anyone foolish enough to get pricked by its thorns becomes ensnared within it. You can blather all you want about leaving, but it’ll do you no good; so long as you have that thorn in your hand, you must remain here.”

“Remain… but I… you cannot….” The human spluttered for several seconds before drawing himself up to his full height. Which might have been impressive had come higher than Arum’s chin. “I am a knight of the crown. I demand to know why you are taking me hostage.”

Arum grunted in frustration. Did the human think that he was keeping him here by choice? “Keep!” he snapped. The Keep sang in answer, ready. “Show the human the way out of this swamp.”

Vines grew down from the ceiling and up from the floor as the Keep sang, converging to form a doorway. On the other side was the edge of the swamp. Arum stared hungrily at it for several long moments, before tearing his gaze away.

“There,” he said, gesturing to the portal. “If you want leave so badly, be my guest!”

The human hesitated only for a moment before moving towards the portal, but the moment his foot stepped outside, he was pushed backwards by some unseen force. The human stumbled back with a cry of pain, before getting up again and lunging to the portal again, only for the same thing to happen. The Keep held him back before he could make another attempt, closing the portal with a melodic sigh.

“You see?” Arum said. “The rose won’t let you leave. You’re as trapped as I am.”

“I can make it through just let me-” The human tried to pull himself free from the Keep’s grip, staring at the space where the portal had been. “I am a knight of the crown, you have to let me through, I can do it if I just-”

“You don’t think I’ve already tried?” Arum retorted. "You think I’ve tried every possible exit to this Keep? They all the same effect.”

“But I can’t- I-” The human looked wretched, verging on panic, clutching at his hair, breathing rapidly. “My position as a knight, my home, my- Rilla, my Rilla, my forever flower, I can’t leave her, how could I be so foolish, there must be a way-”

“My, are all humans so unwilling to listen? I’ve been unable to leave this Keep for years. Nothing infected by the rose has. Why do you think you’d be exempt?”

“Oh Saints above, how could I have-”

 _Of all the humans to come here_ , Arum thought, growing increasingly irritated at the human, _I had to end up with the one unable to shut up_. “This Keep is always in need of fertilizer,” he snapped, which made the human whimper but succeeded in making him quiet.

It was a tempting idea. Killing the human would be easier; less chance of his work being interfered with, and it would certainly be quieter. The Keep, sensing his thought process, chided him for being heartless. Arum sighed. _Very well, if you insist._

“Come,” he said, gesturing out of the greenhouse, “let me show you your quarters.”

The Keep told him where it had grown the human’s room, and Arum led the way out the greenhouse. The human still seemed to be a panicked state but followed Arum, still going on about his _fiancé_ and his _duty_. Arum did his best to ignore it.

“The Keep will tend to your basic needs,” he said as they approached the room. “Food, drink, whatever you require; you only need ask. Which means you should have no need to come find me. Goodbye.”

“Wait,” the human said as Arum turned to leave. “You can’t… you can’t simply leave me here! What even is this place? I’ve never even heard of such a place; the singing, the plants, it’s wonderous, it’s-”

Arum held up a hand to interrupt the human mid-flow; he’d had quite enough of rambling. “This Keep is the living castle from which all life this this swamp blooms,” he said. “It is also where I keep my work, and since I don’t intend to spend the rest of my day babysitting you, that is where I shall be returning. Now, unless you have any other pressing questions you desperately need answering…?”

“What… what is your name?”

“And why should you care what my name is, human?” Arum asked.

“I would like to know what to call the person I’ll be living with.”

 _If I had it my way_ , Arum thought, _everyone would be quiet, and I wouldn’t have to be called anything at all._ Aloud, “I am Lord Arum, who rules this swamp of Titan’s Bloom.”

“And I am Sir Damien,” said the human.

 _A knight,_ Arum thought as he walked away. Yes, of course the first human to come here would be a knight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is art for this chapter! Here is KARIN's lovely art: https://ladyraincloud.tumblr.com/post/182966800786/my-art-for-this-second-citadel-beauty-the-beast.
> 
> And here is Bee's awesome art: https://twitter.com/BeeSapphic/status/1098706909484347392?s=09
> 
> Go look at how pretty those pieces are! I love them!


	3. Chapter 3

Sir Damien paced around the room, back and forth and round and around, berating himself. Trapped inside a cursed plant, doomed to be trapped here forever, and now Rilla left without him, without any way for him to contact her.

The Keep sang a gentle harmony around him, but it did little to calm his spirits. How could he have been so foolish to get stuck here? Would she think he had abandoned her, that he didn’t wish to marry her, that he didn’t love her? How could he live here without her? His heart was already aching. How could have been so foolish to think it was safe here?

And what his position as a knight? What would the queen think when he didn’t return? Would he be labelled a traitor, a deserter? How would Rilla bear the shame of that? Oh, Saints above, how could he have let this happen?

He paced, and he paced, his anxiety burning in his chest. The Keep sang on and off to him, and a vine would slither down every so often to offer various food, but Damien couldn’t bring himself to eat, his mind too full of questions and half-baked solutions.

If only there was a way for him to send a message back home, some way of sending word that he was alive. If only…

A thought struck him. “Excuse me, Keep,” he said, directing his eyes upwards, not knowing where to direct his request. He heard a brief snatch of song in response. “That portal you created earlier, would you… could you make it connect to the Citadel?” The Keep replied with a downwards tone. A no? “Well, I suppose it rather too far,” Damien conceded, trying not to voice his disappointment. “Is there a way for me to send messages here? A homing pigeon, perhaps?”

The Keep hummed thoughtfully, and the room’s door opened. Damien followed the singing through it, stepping into a room instead of the corridor he had seen earlier. It was larger than the room he had slept in, with a high ceiling. Inside were several… well, they were birds, of some kind, but not any that Damien had ever seen. Great wings that seemed bigger than their bodies should allow, sharp claws that looked more like those from reptile than a bird, and a plumage of bright red and green. Damien watched them flit about the ceiling, admiring their grace.

Would they carry messages? Could they travel as far as the Citadel? He supposed he would have to trust in the Keep.

There was a small table with paper and a pencil. Damien sat for some time as he contemplated what to write. _Queen Mira first_ , he thought as he pulled a sheet of paper towards himself. _Duty before self._

He kept it brief, explaining what he knew of the curse and how he was trapped there, asking that no other knights be sent after him; he had no desire for anyone else to become entangled in the curse due to his foolishness.

His letter to Rilla took longer to write, and he teared up his first attempts in frustration. For all his poetry, his words had seemingly deserted him.

After a few more false starts, he managed to get the letter written to his satisfaction.

_Dearest Rilla,_

_My love, my dearest, my forever flower, I am afraid I bear terrible news._

_As I was travelling home to you, I somehow became lost in a swamp that lies between my last destination and the Citadel. I managed to find shelter in what I’d hoped was a safe building, but alas, there is a curse upon this place and I am unable to leave due to this foolishness._

_I will endeavour to find a way to break this curse and free myself, but it is very possible that I will remain trapped here forever. So please, my love, do not wait for me. I know we were pledged to be wed, and it breaks my heart for me to break that promise. But you deserve to live your life in happiness, so please know that any union you choose will have my blessing._

_Farewell my love._

_Yours, Damien._

He tied the letters to two of the birds and carried them to the open window. He stood at it for several long moments trying to push his hand out, but it was no good; each time there was a sharp painful tug deep within the base of his thumb as some unseen force pulled his hand away. He had to content himself with watching his messages fly off into the distance, his heart and hand united in pain.

 --

Arum had also spent part of his day pacing, unable to focus on his work; the morning’s surprise had thrown him completely off-balance. A _knight_ , of all things. The universe loved its jokes.

“And don’t think I’ve forgiven you,” he snapped at the Keep. “I don’t know what you were thinking, letting a human inside.”

The Keep hummed in response; _He was injured and cold. He wouldn’t have survived the night._

“You can’t simply invite in any traveller who happens to stumble by without telling me,” Arum grumbled. “And you certainly shouldn’t have took him to the greenhouse and let him near the rose.”

_The curse must be broken, my hatchling._

Arum bristled at the old pet name and the inference he wasn’t working enough. “If you’re not happy with the way I’m-”

The Keep sang soothingly to him, reaching down vines to cradle his hands. _I know you’re doing your best. But the curse needs a human to break it._

Arum grunted. “He’s a knight,” he said, throwing himself down into a nearby seat of soft moss. “He would kill me if he knew my true form, so I doubt he’ll be breaking any curses for us. And besides,” he added, as though the thought had only just occurred to him, “he has a _fiancé_. His _Rilla_.”

That small detail bothered him more than he cared to admit, and it was hard to say why. Bad enough, he supposed, to be stuck with an intruder for possibly decades on end, but this one wasn’t even useful to him. The best he could hope for was that the human would keep out of his way while he worked.

Speaking of work, he supposed he should return to it, he had wasted far too much of the day already. Getting up, he returned to his workshop, calling out the names of needed materials to the Keep as he walked.

 --

The bioluminescent plants had begun shifting into their night mode three days later when the Keep informed Arum he needed a break.

“I don’t need a break,” Arum said, “what I _need-_ ”

 _-is some food and a rest_.

“I do not require _food,_ ” Arum said, ignoring his hunger. “And regardless, I will not put my needs before yours, not when that _thing_ is still digging in its roots.”

Two vines reached down and pulled his tools from his hands while several more pushed him towards the newly created doorway. _A few hours away will not hurt,_ sang the Keep. Arum did his best to resist, but it was difficult to argue with the Keep when it got stubborn like this, particularly when foggy with sleep. It was ridiculous, of course, he had could continue working for weeks on end when necessary, but…

“Very well, if you insist,” he said, struggling away from the vines and rubbing his eyes. He supposed a brief rest – a _brief_ one – and a meal might prove useful, if only to remove the distractions of tiredness and hunger. And better to leave now before the Keep decided him lullaby him to sleep like a welp.

Arum walked through to his room, where the Keep had already laid out food for him; bowls of fruit, swamp vegetation, various small animals. One of the small mercies of his current body was that its diet was similar enough to his true form, although he didn’t think he would ever enjoy the taste of cooked meat. He ate without pleasure, his mind still full of experiments he hadn’t yet tried, and he slept without dreaming.

He woke late in the morning, still tired, but unwilling to waste any more hours that could be spent elsewhere. He washed, dressed in an old tunic and an older cloak, and finally, steeling himself up, he asked the Keep for water and a knife.

As a rule, Arum did his best to avoid his reflection. His form was bad enough to live in, from its fragile, wrinkled skin to its gangly unbalanced walk, and he saw no reason why he should have to look at it. The only times he could stand to do it for any length of time was when he removed the disguising fur that regularly grew on his face.

Of all the indignities of being turned human, that was perhaps the worst.

As he slowly scraped the fur from his cheeks - it didn't even serve to keep his face warm, it was such a waste of resources to grow - he discussed some ideas for the day’s tests. “The fungal spray may not have been successful the first time,” he said, navigating the knife around a tricky part of his jaw, “but I still think it has potential.”

But the Keep seemed to have other ideas, filling the air with song. Arum listened for several moments with the knife paused against his face, frowning. “You want me to eat with the human? Why should I do that?”

 _Because you haven’t talked to him since he arrived_ , came the reply.

“I’m sure the human can entertain himself without me having to play host,” Arum grumbled, scrapping off the last of the fur. “And that doesn’t change the fact I have more important things to be doing.”

_Nothing that cannot wait._

“You do realise,” said Arum as he cleaned the knife, “that the rosebush will eventually kill you unless I find a way to stop it?”

_You already have what you need to stop it, my Arum._

“And I have already pointed out that-” The last of his sentence was cut off by a flurry of song. Arum growled in frustration. “Fine then,” he said, pushing himself up, “I’ll try it your way. Just remember that yours isn’t the only life at stake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: the 'disgusting human fur' line was something Bee, one of my artists, came up with after a warm-up sketch. I loved it so much I asked if I could include it.


	4. Chapter 4

For Damien, his days in the Keep had been spent grappling with the knowledge that he would never see his beloved again, and praying to Saint Damien for tranquillity that had so far not arrived. Mixed in this grief was the crushing boredom that came from no longer having his knightly routine, which only added to his guilt. As promised, the Keep provided him with food, most of which he could barely bring himself to eat, instead spending most his time pacing around the room, his mind and soul beset by demons.

Rest didn’t come easy; at night he drifted in and out of sleep as worries and guilt filled his mind. When he finally fell into dreaming, they were filled with the strange labyrinthine halls of the first night, the same strange creature prowling the corridors. Damien could hear the swish of a cloak and the scraping of claws, could see the occasional flash of amethyst and green as he grew ever closer, but the always beast remained elusive. He would blink into wakefulness, disorientated by his surroundings, until he remembered the rose, the thorn, his inability to leave, and he would yearn for tranquillity once more.

On his fifth morning in the Keep, after another night of hunting the strange dream-creature, the door to his room opened with the sound of a rapidly grown tree. At first Damien paid it no mind, half awake and lost in thought, but the Keep’s brief harmony focused his attention. A tendril seemed to beckon him forward.

Damien stared at it for several long moments, unsure what the Keep intended. Was this a trap of some sort? Would he be devoured if he stepped through the doorway? Lord Arum had said the Keep would look after him, but perhaps Arum had changed his mind and had ordered the Keep to dispose of him?

He wasn’t given much longer to panic, as several vines were gently nudging him out, and Damien found himself in the corridor he had seen several days prior. The vines gestured up and down the hallway, and he heard the Keep harmonise with itself underlaid with the creaking of multiple doors opening.

The message, it seemed, was _explore_. After a few tentative steps, Damien obliged.

The Keep was enormous, larger than Damien would have expected from the outside. Room after room of strange plant life and stranger creatures; a pen of large, spider-like animals which shied away at his approach, huge leaves with serrated edges, and dozens of towering flowers whose petals shone iridescently.

There were two things he noticed as he wandered through the Keep. The first was the lack of windows. Could the Keep create windows the way it could doors and portals? If so, why didn’t it? The rooms and hallways were well-lit by glowing plants that grew along the ceilings and the tops of walls; perhaps they provided enough light for the other plants to grow?

The second took longer for him to spot; thin white roots growing along the edges of the floor, clustering and clumping together in corners, occasionally growing up and into the walls.

After an hour or so of exploring, Damien came across the large staircase from the first night. He paused at the top, hope catching in his throat as a thought began forming. The portal may not have worked when he’d tried it, but the front door might succeed where that had failed. He hurried down the steps two at a time, wondering why he hadn’t thought to try it sooner.

“You’re wasting your time.”

Damien paused midway down and looked up. Arum was leaning against a wall near the top of the stairway, arms folded, returning the gaze with a look of mild disinterest.

“It doesn’t matter which way you try to leave,” he continued. “I’d have thought you’d have accepted the curse by now.”

“I….” Damien glanced down; he could see the door below him. He was so close. “I don’t know if I will accept it until I know for certain.”

Arum shrugged in one long, fluid motion of his shoulders. “Suit yourself.”

Damien closed the distance to the bottom of the stairs and reached for the door, hope and anxiety mixing in his throat. There was one brief moment, after pulling it open and stepping outside, when he though it had worked, that he was actually free, before something in his hand gave a sharp _tug_ and he was pulled back into the Keep again. The front door slammed shut as he stumbled inside, his hand throbbing.

“Satisfied?” Arum asked as Damien ascended back up the stairs.

Damien didn’t answer, fighting to not let disappointment overwhelm him. The hope of freedom, however false, however small, made his imprisonment all the more crushing.

“Apparently we are to dine together,” Arum said once Damien was at the top of the stairway. “The Keep has set up a meal in and asks that we eat together.”

“I don’t know if I would be good company at the moment.”

“Regardless, the Keep insists,” said Arum. “I find it is best not to argue.”

A doorway grew into the wall behind him. Arum lead the way inside where several tables had been laid out with food, and threw himself down into a mossy seat. Damien sat with more care, taking the time to have his first proper look at his host in several days. Arum was sprawled in his chair, long-limbed and scowling as he picked at the food in front of him. His dark hair was held back in a loose knot, his angular cheeks covered in small cuts and the occasional patch of stubble. Most striking about him were his eyes, which were a bright violet that matched his cloak.

He looked tired; his eyes were bloodshot, his clothes creased. Damien was reminded of Rilla when she had difficulties with an experiment; she would often forgo sleep for days before Damien could persuade her to rest.

His heart ached at the thought of her. He fumbled to start a conversation as distraction, lest his mind be overrun with demons once again.

“It is strange,” he said, reaching for a nearby bowl of fruit, “that you live so far from any other town or village.” Arum merely grunted in response, but Damien pressed on. “I suppose I am simply curious about you became cursed to live in such a place as this.”

Arum continued to push food around his plate for several moments before responding. “Take my advice human: never agree to do work for a witch. The smallest perceived flaw can incur their wrath.”

“If I ever meet a witch, I shall endeavour to remember that.”

Silence stretched out between them as they ate. Damien struggled to think of another topic of conversation. Arum clearly wanted to be elsewhere. Saints, he most likely resented Damien for taking up his time when he could be working, he had even admitted that the Keep had insisted he’d come, and was it really any wonder that-

 _Tranquillity,_ Damien thought, clenching his hands together in prayer under the table. _Saint Damien, your tranquillity._

He managed to return his breathing to some measure of normality before making another attempt at conversation.

“You mentioned your work,” he began. “What do you do exactly?”

“Much of my time nowadays is spent attempting to break the curse’s hold,” Arum replied, tearing open a bread roll with disinterest.

Damien sensed a conversational dead-end, and tried another route. “What about the plants around here? I was exploring some of the Keep this morning, and I’m amazed at the variety of hues, shapes, smells, it’s truly extraordinary. I wish Rilla – Amaryllis, my fiancé, she’s a herbalist – she would love to explore this place, I’m sure her appreciation would surpass mind. Although it’s for the best she isn’t here, I would hate for her to get trapped-”

“Does every knight prattle on this much?” asked Arum.

“No.”

There was another brief silence. “Well,” Arum said at last, “at least you’re honest.”

“I’m a poet by trade, Lord Arum,” Damien said, by way of explanation. “My words can strike at a heart with all the speed and power of my arrows.”

“A poet!” Arum said in mock delight. The Keep seemed to echo his tone with its soft song with a long series of notes. Arum listened to it for a moment, before turning his gaze back on Damien. “Go on then,” he said, settling back in his seat and waving a hand lazily. “The Keep is interested in hearing one of your poems. Let’s not leave it wanting.”

Damien quickly ran through his mental library of poetry, settling on ‘The Battle at World’s End’.  The Keep joined him partway through, the notes following the cadence of his voice. It was strange performing with another (if he could call a mere recital with an audience of one a performance) but not unpleasant. He quickly followed the poem up with one from the First Citadel, and then one of his own composition.

“Delicate as honeysuckle, little knight,” Arum said once Damien had finished. His tone still held a faint note of mockery, but the words held no bite to them and he had clearly enjoyed himself. He stood, brushing crumbs from his robe. “Thank you for entertaining the Keep. Now, I must return to my work, I trust you can keep yourself busy for the rest of your-” He was cut off by a long, drawn-out note from the Keep. Damien watched as Arum frowned, head tilted to one side as he listened. “I will not ask!” he snapped. “Don’t be ridiculous, I’ve already explained to you-” The Keep sang out again, the notes overlapping Arum’s words. “Very well,” he sighed after several moments, and turned back briefly to face Damien. “I shall see you at dinner, honeysuckle.” With that, he disappeared out the room.


End file.
